


Moving Day

by csi_sanders1129



Category: Sky High (2005)
Genre: Comfortember 2020, Established Relationship, M/M, Moving, Superheroes, Supervillains, first day/night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:00:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27833428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/csi_sanders1129/pseuds/csi_sanders1129
Summary: In which Will and Warren’s first day in their new home does not quite go to plan.
Relationships: Warren Peace/Will Stronghold
Comments: 3
Kudos: 55
Collections: Comfortember 2020





	Moving Day

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Comfortember 2020, Prompt: First Day/Night. Like all my Sky High fics thus far, I've named Will and Warren's alter-egos Airstrike and Inferno. Comments and kudos would be awesome. Enjoy!

Warren can't wait until they're done with this.

It had been fun, at first, packing up their things from the small apartment they'd been renting while they'd looked for a house. Buying furniture had been entertaining, too, the two of them debating the merits of one sofa over another, trying out a wide array of them as they moved through the store. Even getting the house ready had been a good time – they'd had a brief paint war in the kitchen when they'd been touching up the paint job last week. That had led to a _very_ good time.

Now, there's just boxes. So many boxes.

He adds two very heavy boxes to the growing pile in their bedroom and heads back downstairs to get more boxes.

He's not really sure where all the boxes keep coming from. Surely they didn't have this much stuff crammed into that tiny apartment, did they? Surely they didn't have that much put away in storage?

On the plus side, Will requires very little assistance with carrying their possessions into the house. Really, he requires no assistance at all, but for the sake of not outing themselves as superheroes on day one in the house, they'd tried to at least make it seem like Will couldn't lift every piece of furniture they owned one handed. Warren's not sure it's done any good – he'd had to stop Will from carrying eight large moving boxes in by himself, pointing out that humans without super strength would probably not do that.

Or now, for example, Warren notes, as he reaches the front door. Will's shuffling up the walk carrying a whole entire couch by himself. Not exactly subtle.

"Showing off now, are we?"

Will laughs, sets the sofa down in the living room and promptly sits himself down on it. "Hardly, just wanted a place to sit for a bit," he says. Warren joins him, reveling in the sofa they finally settled on, the perfect mix of everything they'd wanted in it, big enough, comfortable enough, strong enough. "There's not much left in the truck."

Warren eyes the pile of boxes in the corner of the room, the pile in the kitchen, the pile at the top of the stairs. "And then we get to start unpacking."

"It's late," Will says, as if Warren needs the reminder that the moving truck had shown up much later than scheduled, delaying the entirety of their day. "I vote we just unpack the stuff we need, order take-out and deal with everything else in the morning."

"I can get on board with that plan," Warren agrees, already thinking of surprising Will with dinner from his favorite place for their first night in the house. He can hook up the new television, spark a fire in the fireplace and the two of them can enjoy the evening. That in mind, he gets to his feet, re-energized now that there's an end in sight for this exhausting day. He steals a kiss from Will on his way by, ruffles the other man's hair, "let's get this done, then, Stronghold."

Will trails after him, trying to salvage his hair as he goes.

* * *

It seems like the minute they get the last of their things out of the truck and into the house, the phone rings. _The_ phone.

"I thought they weren't gonna call us today?" Warren asks, setting the last box down on the kitchen table. It's rather unfortunate timing, as he'd only just placed a very stealthy order to the small Italian place they'd gone for their first date. But such is the life of a superhero, he supposes.

"Mom and dad said they'd handle anything that came up, but it must be serious," Will suggests, grabbing up the phone. Warren can tell from the look on his face that they are indeed getting called out – he flicks on the radio, hears a news report about some up and coming supervillain, known as the Bombadier, causing chaos downtown. When the call ends, Will reminds him of the one cool aspect of their first call out in the new house, an eager grin on his face – "To the sanctum?"

Warren laughs, "to the sanctum."

There's a secret door built into a bookshelf in the living room. They approach it now, ready to gear up for the mission. It's already coded to their biometrics – it had been one of the first things set up after they'd closed on the house. The secret basement room is decked out with the latest in superhero technology, all sorts of monitors and alerts, prototype weapons they've both been working with (Warren is very eager to flesh out the details on a firesword), plenty of security measures, and their costumes. They're ready to go in no time at all, years of practice having streamlined the process of putting on their alter-egos. Will and Warren walk in, Airstrike and Inferno fly out.

The Bombadier's already unleashed an impressive amount of explosives by the time Airstrike and Inferno join up with the Commander and Jetstream. They set to work quickly, using the additional personnel to back the new villain into an alleyway. Carried by Airstrike into a workable position, Inferno drops a ring of fire around the villain, ensuring that any additional attempts at setting off his bombs blow him up, too, as the Commander detains him.

"Sorry to interrupt," Jetstream tells them, while the Commander loads their culprit into a power-blocking van for transport. "I'm sure you two have had a long day."

"We have," Airstrike agrees, "but at least we got this wrapped up quickly."

"Well, we'll handle things from here, boys," the Commander assures them. "The clean-up crews should be showing up soon. You better get back to those boxes," he says, "they won't unpack themselves."

"See you for dinner on Friday," Jetstream reminds them as they part ways.

"Home?" Inferno inquires, having stepped away to make a quick phone call now that the call out's over and done.

Airstrike agrees, and within minutes, they're flying back over the house. They use the secret entrance in the shed in the backyard to re-enter the sanctum, shed their superhero personas. Will and Warren resurface, once again faced with the daunting piles of boxes waiting to be unpacked.

Just as the doorbell rings.

Warren watches Will frown in confusion – probably thinks it's one of their new neighbors stopping by to wonder why mysterious figures were flying into their backyard so late at night – but when he opens the door, there's a delivery driver armed with their usual orders from Will's favorite place, just as Warren had planned. A quick call to the owner, who they've gotten to know pretty well in the years they've been going there, and a promise of a very hefty tip had gotten the food he'd ordered sent out of them.

"I don't know how you did that," Will says, the second the door is closed and the food is safely inside and en route to the kitchen, "But you're amazing and I love you."

"I'd hope so," Warren jokes, "You partnered with me. You married me. You bought a house with me."

"Clearly I have excellent judgment," Will counters, already busting into one of the many boxes in search of plates and utensils. He comes up empty there and on the next box, but box three reveals them and soon enough the two of them are enjoying their food along with the bottle of wine Will's parents left for them when Stronghold Realty closed on the sale.

When the food is gone, they settle in the living room, on their perfectly comfortable sofa. Warren uses his powers to instantly start a fire in the fireplace, taking the late autumn chill out of the air. Will uses his superstrength to help Warren mount the television on the wall. They put on some movie but end up making out on the couch instead of watching it.

"How about we move this upstairs?"

"Thought you'd never ask," Warren counters, and suddenly he's not sprawled all over Will anymore, but in his arms, instead. "Alright, now you _are_ just showing off," he grumbles. Warren has long since accepted how easy it is for Will to carry him (both when flying and in situations like this), and while he may continue to half-heartedly complain about the indignity of it (since Will's remained more than half a foot shorter than him), tonight it gets them off the couch and up the stairs much more efficiently.

Will freezes upon entry to their bedroom, the bare mattress a reminder that they didn't quite get around to making the bed, or even unpacking the things required to do so. He sets Warren down on his feet, one arm still curled around his waist, and wonders, "Do we do the responsible adult thing and pause long enough to make the bed or do we throw a couple blankets down and deal with it later?"

"Or," Warren proposes a possible alternative, knowing just how many boxes he lugged up here earlier, any of which could hold the blankets and sheets for the bed, "How about we try out that big, fancy shower we have?" He raises a suggestive eyebrow, "We've got plenty of time to break in the bed. It is _our_ house."

"You have a point," Will concedes, and suddenly they're kissing again. Will's dragging him slowly toward the master bathroom and a very impressive rain shower that takes up half the room, both of them shedding clothes along the way.

When they emerge from their joint shower sometime later they're both happy and sated and tired. They very much do not feel like digging out the blankets, then, either, but they do (and they go through half the boxes in doing so). Finally, eagerly, they fall into bed, Will, as always, settling half on top of Warren as they both promptly start to drift off to sleep.

So, their first day in their new house hadn't gone to plan, Warren thinks, and neither had their first night, not exactly, but maybe it's better this way, imperfect and theirs. Certainly nothing about their relationship had been to plan – they'd started as enemies and now they're this. Together. Happy. Home.


End file.
